


A crown fitted for a queen

by justmarcialima



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Curly hair pride, Curly hair rules, F/M, Hateful Elven Lords, Self-Acceptance, curly hair, trying to fit in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmarcialima/pseuds/justmarcialima
Summary: Human reader gets tired of trying to fit in with the elves and embraces her humanity by letting her natural hair flow, which happens to be curly.





	A crown fitted for a queen

**Author's Note:**

> So I have curly hair and I very rarely let it stay curly, mainly because I'm lazy.  
> But today I let it stay curly and realized it is cute AF so I thought about this little fanfic. Hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment and kudos if you like it.

Being married to a king was more work than you thought it would be, especially since you weren’t born into royalty. Maybe if you were, you would be already acclimated with all the meetings, all the balls, all the appointments and everything it came with the title of queen. You barely even saw your husband, usually seeing each other early in the morning and late at night.  
You and Thranduil had met during weird circumstances since you were guiding Thorin’s party to the mountain, the only human and the only woman amidst the dwarfs, wizard and hobbit. 

You used to be Gandalf’s apprentice before joining Thorin’s gang on their crusade and helped Bilbo break the dwarfs from their confinement in Mirkwood. You thought you would never see Thranduil again after that day, but you’ve met again during the Battle of the five armies where he saved your life from an orc’s axe where you would have been split in half. After the battle was finished and your rightful king and his heirs were dead, all you could do was mourn for the friends you lost. You found Thranduil also mourning, even if his son wasn’t really dead and you bonded over the loss of loved ones. You never expected any other feeling to grow from that but soon love was blossoming between the two of you and he was fighting against his elven lords so he could marry you, a lowly human by their standards. Elves didn’t really remarried after their spouse died and the two of you were breaking a huge taboo by doing so. 

Eventually you’ve won the battle and got married, becoming queen of Mirkwood, the first human queen to ever rule over an elven kingdom. Being a fish outside of the water, you had to learn the costumes of the elven folk and fit the part of a queen made to rule them all. That meant having straight hair, just like the elves. At least in this you could fit in with a simple glamour that you needed to reapply every day in the morning. It wasn’t a bother. During your time with the company, you used the glamour so it would be easier to brush your hair every day without the need for water, since you didn’t had access to it every day. So you started doing the same in Mirkwood in a futile attempt to be more accepted. 

Over time it became a nuisance. During your time with the company you were doing it out of necessity, but having to wake up every day in the cusp of dawn to redo the glamour was taxing. Every day you wished you could have a few more minutes of sleep before dragging your body out of bed to straighten your hair in front of the mirror. It was exhausting. 

One day you woke up and decided to say fuck it to the whole routine, going to bed and sleeping in for a few more hours. When you finally woke up, much later into the morning, Thranduil wasn’t on the bed anymore and you stretched and yawned, thanking the gods for the peaceful slumber. You got up the bed and decided to have a soaking bath to wash away the rest of the glamour from your hair and consequently your soul. You didn’t care anymore if the lords didn’t approve of you, you had been married to Thranduil for years now so they knew you weren’t going anywhere. During the bath you brushed your wet hair with care and tenderness, admiring your little curls that weren’t going anywhere anymore. You dried the excess of water from your hair with a silk cloth, kneading the curls so they would end up more defined and applying an oil so they would be soft and smelling deliciously. 

Then you picked a rosy pink long dress, with matching jewelry and shoes and sat upon the dresser to do your makeup for the day. Since it was a really warm day already, by the time you were done your hair was almost dry, now only mildly humid. You looked into the mirror and smiled at your reflection, finally being happy with how you looked for a long time. Your curls reminded you that you were human and it was great being different and standing out from the crowd. 

As you were picking up your crown, the door to your chambers opened and Thranduil entered. 

\- Meleth nin, what is taking you so-… - He never finished his sentence as his eyes landed on you and he gasped. For a moment you were afraid of his reaction since he had never seen your natural hair before. – Your hair is different. – He said, looking dazzled as he walked towards you. You refrained from rolling your eyes and telling him he was stating the obvious. 

\- This is my natural hair, love. – You simply said. – I’m done with straightening it. 

Thranduil raised his pale hand and touched your curls softly, picking one up and pulling it gently and releasing it as he saw it come back to its place in a bouncy manner. 

\- Didn't you liked it? – You asked, biting you bottom lip in apprehension. 

\- It’s beautiful. – He said in reverence and you released the breath you were holding feeling relieved. – I never saw anything like it before. Why were you hiding it? – He looked into your eyes, trying to find the answer. 

\- I wasn’t hiding it per see, I was just trying to fit in. – You shrugged. 

 

\- You’re the queen, darling. You don’t need to fit in. – He caressed your face lightly while he smiled. – I never knew your hair was a crown of its own. Your hair is proof that you were meant to be a queen, after all. - He said. – Not a single crown that I could possibly present you with would be more beautiful than the one that you were born with, my queen. You were born to rule, your hair is the ultimate proof of it. 

You smiled at him, kissing softly at his pink lips and burying your hand in his smooth blonde hair. Only lost into the kiss that you realized he hadn’t taken his hand from your hair for the entire time. Oh well, you could endure a bit of frizz if it meant he would keep kissing you like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Meleth nin is "My love" in elvish btw.


End file.
